Handball
by Euro Nympho
Summary: Maura has always admired Jane's athletic prowess, but she's no slouch in the sports department herself.
1. Chapter 1

**_for L. who gave me back my joy in writing for pleasure (ugh, it's still fucking torture tho;) Happy bday, bby!_**

* * *

"I don't know, Maura," Jane says.

"My hands are huge and you are small," Jane can't help but notice Maura's eyes widening at that last statement and a blush spreading from Maura's chest to her face. Jane feels her own blood rushing to rather lower regions at the sight, because it reminds her of the last time she saw that lovely flush on that equally lovely skin. Earlier that morning actually, when Jane triumphantly looked up from between Maura's legs with a cocky, if shiny, smirk.

"I have never known you to shy away from a challenge," Maura's voice takes on a seductive, teasing note Jane is only too familiar with. The one that provokes conflicting feelings of annoyance at being so blatantly played and a kind of helpless willingness to do anything Maura asks of her.

"It's not like that," Jane says, trying her best to not sound too whiny. After a brief pause in which she gathers herself, she continues in a softer voice, "I just don't want to hurt you."

Maura gives her that deeply adoring look that Jane in the past never knew how to read, which explains why it took so long for them to throw off the pretense that they were just BFFs. Well, that's how Jane frames it in her mind anyway, preferring to gloss over the more obvious obstacle that kept them apart for so long. But as Angela once explained to an exasperated Maura, "Jane wouldn't be Jane if she wasn't in denial about something."

"I wouldn't let you go in cold, Jane," Maura admonishes, "like with any athletic activity, we'd do plenty of warm-up exercises and stretches beforehand." Her voice trails off and she cocks her head, looking into the distance over Jane's shoulder and tapping her lip with her index finger as she ponders the significance of her choice of words. A pleased little smile appears and she nods at Jane sagely.

"Also," she continues, "it takes some practice and preparation to...uh...pave the way, so to speak," Jane's ears prick up at Maura's uncharacteristic coyness.

"It's perfectly safe," she hastens to add as she notices the suspicious tilt of Jane's head.

"And you know this how? You've done this before?" Jane's detective eyes closely interrogate the features of the woman she loves.

"This is one of your European things, isn't it? Don't lie to me, Maura!" she growls as she waves her index finger accusingly in Maura's direction. They both know Jane is not referring to outright falsehoods, but to Maura's finely honed skills of deception, diversion and misdirection.

"I read a lot! And I _am_ a physician, after all," Maura concedes in a high-pitched voice. "It's not rocket science, Jane."

"Also there's no equipment you need to familiarise yourself with," Maura chirps, but Jane's shoulders sag a little. She _like__s_ equipment, dammit. Even as a little girl she was drawn to the gear-heavy sports. Softball was her favourite, what with the bat, the glove, the helmet and ugh, the uniform, of course. And as a grown woman, it's not limited to sports equipment anymore.

"It's just your hands and fingers," Maura sighs as she lovingly caresses Jane's fingers with her own. She is easily mesmerised by Jane's hands, one of the first things she noticed about her—well, after her kinky boots of course, and those big, dark, badly made-up eyes (Jane is still not good with eyeliner, despite Maura's multiple, well-meaning attempts to help her improve her technique, which Jane has not been very receptive to). Those dark eyes which were blazing at her with the defiance and anger she now recognises as Jane's habitual death glare when she is overwhelmed, angry or feels backed into a corner. But it wasn't until Jane aggressively pointed at Stanley with her long, sexy index finger, that Maura realised she was feeling something more for this woman than just medical concern for her nutrition.

She looks up into the chocolaty abyss that is Jane's eyes, "Don't you trust me, baby?"

* * *

They've been at it for half the night when Maura turns to Jane, both on their backs and still slightly out of breath. She takes pleasure in the sweaty sheen coating their bodies, glistening in the light of the candles Jane always insists on instead of the subtle, seductive lighting she had installed in her boudoir expressly for nights like this.

"Now, Jane," she breathes into her ear, "Now!"

Jane, although still caught in the tendrils of her own orgasm precipitated by Maura's multiple, violently convulsing climaxes catches on to the urgency – or is it need perhaps – in Maura's voice. She turns her head and almost drowns in Maura's hazel eyes but still manages to eke out a "Huh?"

Usually it is Jane who rolls the eyes in their relationship, but there's no mistaking it, Maura is doing it now and moving as if to get out of bed.

"Hey now, baby," Jane grabs Maura's shoulder which is turning away from her, she quickly scoots closer to her, burying her face in Maura's neck, huffing her scent before murmuring against her skin, "What is it you want me to do?"

She places gentle kisses up and down her shoulder, restraining herself, making sure not to leave any marks which she knows Maura disapproves of, even though she has this desperate need to claim her. To announce to the world – or maybe just the precinct – that those were her lips caressing the clever, hot, accomplished Chief ME's skin, and that she is hers and hers alone.

"I'm not a mind reader, you know," she pulls Maura closer against her and runs a hand over her belly and up to the sweet, sweet weight of one of her breasts, "Tell me what you want, Sexy."

Maura wilts into Jane's touch, "Remember what I said about warm-up exercises and practice? And how I told you, you shouldn't go in cold? I'm definitely warmed up now; it's time for some stretches."


	2. Chapter 2

_**Happy belated V Day, blondie;)** _

* * *

The first time Jane looked at the silicon toy protruding from her loins, she had batted at it with her hand and laughed. She had chosen a hot pink for the same reason she paints her toenails with bright colours, which Maura teases her about relentlessly. It adds a secret girlishness to her generally masculine demeanour both on and off the job. As with this dildo – this silly-looking object – she feels the colour provides a nice balance.

Also, no veins! Balls weren't even on the table. Much to Maura's amusement she had been quite adamant about that when they were browsing online, laughing at some of the reviews, intrigued and sometimes downright puzzled by the mechanics of some of the offerings (one model in particular had Maura so tied up in knots that she threatened to contact the manufacturer, "It just doesn't make sense anatomically, Jane!") At first Jane had been a little wide-eyed at the variety on display and the seemingly endless possibilities, but as she so often does, she brazened her way through her initial discomfort and actually felt a growing sense of excitement.

This was not something she had ever thought about before in relation to herself. For some reason it had never entered her mind. But like so many other times ever since she met Maura, she found herself thinking and doing things she would never have contemplated before. Sure, she had joined her in activities like running a goddamned marathon or doing stupid yoga because it meant spending more time with Maura, which she had wanted to do almost from the first time they met, never mind it took a while before she had admitted that to herself.

And then there are the things she does for Maura because Maura _makes_ her do it. Well, in the sense that she does them because she likes pleasing Maura, even if it makes Jane feel awkward or has her get up at the crack ass of dawn. But this, this is something that may have started out like that, but ended up tugging at something deep inside her she hadn't been aware of before. Something she doesn't really understand or even cares to analyse. Maura does the overthinking in this relationship after all.

She looked at herself in the mirror sporting this _'non-biological phallic-shaped object'_ as Maura had put it when they were investigating the rape and murder of a diabetic, lesbian philanderer. She remembers that at the time she could hardly say the word _'dildo'_ out loud, of course that didn't stop her from making a lameass joke when Maura launched into a mini lecture about a stone phallus dating back to the ice age to hide her embarrassment.

She slapped the toy again, "Lead the way!" and pointed the brightly-coloured appendage towards Maura's bedroom.

* * *

So when Maura says it's time for some stretches, Jane rolls over onto her other side and reaches for the drawer where Maura keeps their toys.

"What are you doing?"

"Uh..." Jane says as she dangles the harness containing the perky pink dildo in front of her and waggles her eyebrows.

"That's not what I meant."

"But you said—" Jane sputters.

"I told you it doesn't require any additional equipment. I was thinking more along the lines of finger exercises," Maura laughs at Jane's pout.

As Jane drops the toy back in the drawer, Maura asks her to get the lube.

Jane hands her the bottle and with a smirk adds, "Don't know why, last I checked you were pretty soaked."

"Jane!" Maura gasps.

"This isn't personal lubricant, it's baby oil!"

"Same same."

Maura scrunches up her face, "No, it most certainly is not! I am not going to let you upset the delicate balance of my vaginal flora with perfumed mineral oil."

Jane rolls her eyes and is waiting for an exhortation on the ecosystem of Maura's hooha, but Maura is on a mission, although she does make a mental note to educate Jane at a more opportune moment. Despite being an avid fan – which Maura and her hooha can attest to – she feels that Jane is surprisingly incurious about the less obvious marvels of the human vulva.

Not to mention that Jane can even be squeamish about it at times, well, not randomly, with unfortunate periodic regularity rather. Thank god she had managed to convince Jane that even if bloodsport wasn't her thing, Maura had no such qualms and that there was no need to reciprocate. It was bad enough that Jane's inner teenage boy reduced their options for a week or so each month, no need to double up since they weren't synchronised. If she weren't a scientist, Maura would be tempted to interpret that as another rebellious act of Jane's inner male adolescent.

Maura is getting impatient now, she doesn't want the prep work they've been doing all night to go to waste. Although it was hardly a waste she immediately chastises herself. And it wasn't what she'd set out to do, but now that they're here, now the clenching throbs have subsided and her brain is awash in oxytocin making her whole body hum with a deep-seated sense of satisfaction, love and affection, she's relaxed enough to move on from basic conditioning to more intensive training.

So when Jane finally hands her the proper, fragrance-free water-based lubricant, she says "Give me your fingers."

"Not that I'm complaining, baby, but haven't we've been doing this for most of the night?"

"Not this many," Maura mumbles as she liberally coats all of Jane's left hand.


End file.
